


Sometimes

by azure7539



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Snape Lives, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure7539/pseuds/azure7539
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Snape would stand there, shrouded in the darkness of the night, and stare at the figure lying on the bed, covered up under the thick layer of blanket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something that accidentally popped out of my mind at random while listening to some music.
> 
> Unbeta-ed; but I've tried to correct as many errors as possible (the ones that I can see, anyway)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it~

Sometimes, Snape would stand there, shrouded in the darkness of the night and stare at the figure lying on the bed, covered up under the thick layer of blanket. He stood there, mind blank, body still, and soul numb. No thoughts crossed his mind, and, for some reasons, he just kept on staring while not staring at the same time.

Something shifted on the inside, from deep within himself, and Snape didn’t know for sure what that was. Like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings, it went almost undetectable. And even then, even if he had realized the existence of something there, he still found it too complicated, too obscured, and too ambiguous to indentify and understand.

Maybe there really was nothing there after all. Maybe he really was going insane like people said he was. Hearing things, seeing things, feeling things that only made themselves known to him and him alone. He was out of his mind, then. They said that perhaps some of Nagini’s poison had managed to seep into his head, snuffing his previous intelligence and sharp wits. Some said that was unfortunate while others felt it was more or less a blessing to the rest of the world. And Snape had no idea what he should believe.

 _“You don’t use to be this indecisive,”_ he could still hear the voice of someone saying to him, but the face of that person had long since gone from his mind.

So he used to be able to choose between sausages and bacon for breakfast? He remembered asking himself. That sounded nice. If he could, then maybe he would want to be that person again- that person in the ‘past’ that people would often talk about. Then maybe he would know what he would like to have for his meals.

 _“So this is the end of the Wizarding World’s youngest Potions Master in three centuries,”_ somebody else had said.

Well, technically, he could still do potions. He still remembered the recipes and the required skills. However, they also said that his magic was unstable, so he wouldn’t be able to make a perfect batch anymore. The flow of channeled energy wasn’t steady enough to feed into the potions. And sometimes, his muscles would twitch involuntarily, and that had every chance of happening in the middle of him adding some ingredients into a boiling cauldron. It would prove to be very dangerous should that happen. Not to mention the fact that he was easily distracted nowadays by nothing in particular, from time to time. Therefore, no more potions for him, he had gotten bad at it.

_“His responses are slow now, not as spontaneous and instantly as before. But… it can’t really be helped. He can barely remember himself.”_

That wasn’t the actual truth. The actual truth was that he vaguely remembered himself, or the man in the ‘past’ that everyone kept telling him about. He could still say his name was ‘Severus Snape’, that should at least count for something, right? He used to be a ‘Potions Master’ at ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’. He used to be the Headmaster at some point as well, short-lived it was, or so they said.

Sometimes, he would stare at the scars on his left forearm. They were jagged and darkened as if he, or someone, had tried to claw something out using their nails… Something ugly must have been there before, he thought to himself, something sinister and vile.

Sometimes, he would ask if he had been bad, evil, and dark. Some shook their heads, some just stayed silent and looked away. Some even seemed to be angry at him as well.

But…

But _he_ would turn to look at Snape whenever that question escaped his lips, and _he_ would smile pleasantly before closing the gap between them and kissing him briefly on the lips.

 _“No, Severus,” he_ would say. And it was a good feeling, it was a good feeling to hear his name being spoken with such warmth and care. _“You were and are a good man,” he_ would whisper into Snape’s ear. And Snape would believe _him_ … Until he forgot it and came to ask again, the exact question just as before.

And _he_ would smile again with an edge of sadness to it and patiently repeated the same thing.

It was then that Snape thought he was finally able to feel something again. Lately, that familiar, usual numbness was beginning to ebb away as well. Odd, he mused with a raised eyebrow.

But _he_ didn’t make Snape choose between sausages and bacon, _he_ would usually just make a little bit of both for Snape. Sometimes,  _he_ would say something purposelessly as if to remind that fact to Snape, like, _“you know you’re the youngest Potions Master in three centuries, right?”_ and Snape would slowly nod in acknowledgement, then _he_ just simply grinned in response. Or something along the line, _“I think-… No, scratch that, I know you’re still smarter than the rest of those dunderheads combined.”_

Snape doubted that but didn’t say anything otherwise.

Just like that, life continued to move on.

“Severus?” the figure on the bed stirred and sat up slowly. “What are you doing standing there like that?” _he_ asked. “Come back to bed. You are supposed to return immediately after you’re done with the loo.”

Snape went to his side of the bed, and climbed under the cover. “You see?” _he_ said, _his_ warm legs already intertwined with Snape’s own. “You’re already freezing. What were you thinking?”

Of course, Snape couldn’t tell the difference between a rhetorical question and a real one anymore, so he just shook his head. A sigh escaped _his_ nostrils as _he_ edged closer and closer to Snape.

“Just come back quickly next time, all right? I don’t want you to get sick,” and Snape nodded. “Now, one pop-quiz before we go back to sleep. Who am I?”

Snape stared at those brilliant green orbs through the dark veil of Night and said, “Harry Potter.”

“And you are?”

“Severus Snape.”

“Yes, that’s right. And I, Harry Potter, love you, Severus Snape. Do you think you love me? And don’t over-complicate it, just tell me whatever comes to your mind.”

And Snape thought about it for a moment or two. He thought about it all and finally nodded. “I think I love you, too, Harry Potter.”

 _He_ laughed. And Snape decided that he liked the sound of Harry’s laughter a lot. It made him feel less numb and more like a human being again. Not just a damaged object, not around Harry.

"Remember that, all right?"

Snape nodded, feeling Harry's lips on his forehead, and closed his eyes.

* * *

_End~_

 


End file.
